


Bottoms Up

by SixFoldDimension



Category: BlazBlue
Genre: Alcohol, Bartender may or may not be familiar, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, M/M, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixFoldDimension/pseuds/SixFoldDimension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Bring Hibiki to a bar.<br/>2. Get Hibiki drunk off his ass.<br/>3. ?????<br/>4. Blackmail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plan

The chattering voices, the soft clinking of glass, and the light, jazzy tune playing from the stereo system placed high above the shelves and shelves of bottles – these were the sounds typical of Kagura Mutsuki’s favorite joint, a casual lounge with a clean, well-lit open bar where he had long since established himself as a generous regular. Here was the place he had decided to visit for the night, though at a much earlier hour than his usual; instead of the familiar night shift, there was an older, buff-er bartender with a name tag reading “Mr. Badguy” and a poker face that nonetheless conveyed a sense of soullessness unique to those working at dead-end jobs out of obligation rather than pleasure. Still – Kagura wasn’t about to back out now. Tonight, he was on an important mission.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Somehow I seriously doubt that, sir.”

“Lighten up a little, Hibiki! You said you would celebrate with me if I got my paperwork done before eight. And hey, guess who pulled through?”

Hibiki closed the menu and placed it back on the counter. “I said _you_ could go and celebrate if you finished your work on time, Lord Kagura. _I_ never agreed to anything.”

“And despite that, we’re both here,” Kagura sighed, but inwardly he was grinning. Things were all going according to The Plan.

What _was_ The Plan, one might ask? For one, it was practically infallible, and not just because it was concocted by a tactical genius such as himself. No, there were simply no loopholes if you could keep things simple enough. He was a big fan of the four-step method, which went something along the lines of:

  1. Bring Hibiki to a bar.
  2. Get Hibiki drunk off his ass.
  3. ?????
  4. _Blackmail._



And by blackmail, he meant getting interesting new information out of his cagey little assistant. As a part of their friendship. Nothing diabolical, really. It had occurred to him that he knew next to nothing about Hibiki despite them practically living together for the past several years (for work-related reasons, don’t get the wrong idea) – and that seemed a little sad. Yet whenever he breached the topic of personal life, Hibiki defaulted on a neutral response or copped out entirely, which made getting to know him better a hell of a lot more difficult than it should’ve been.

Which led them to today. Kagura had already booked the whole bar for the night for the two of them, endless drinks all prepaid. He didn’t let his drinking companion know this, of course – that would throw a huge wrench in The Plan – but he had no idea how much Hibiki would need to get completely hammered. If it was more than a certain amount (not that he imagined it would, with Hibiki’s height and weight) – but in the off chance that it required more than, say, fifty drinks or so, then he would be in trouble. And if not… well, then there was more for him, wasn’t there?

“So, have you figured out what you want to order yet?” Kagura asked, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. Another thing he didn’t bother mentioning was the fact that he was sitting on top of all menus listing the actual food options and soft drink choices, so not drinking was (quite literally) not on the menu.

“Yes,” said Hibiki. “I’ll have water.”

Kagura coughed. “Seriously?”

“I am serious. This menu is ridiculous.” The younger man pursed his lips. He drew his hands together and folded them, as if they were in a grade school classroom or a church. “They don’t serve anything with an alcoholic content lower than 30%, and the appetizers seem… subpar. The less I say about the naming scheme of the drinks, the better.”

Before Kagura could make a retort, the bartender appeared in all his hulking glory. “What d’you want?” he demanded rather than asked.

“I’ll, uh, have a sake bomb to start,” said Kagura. He gave his companion a pointed look, which Hibiki refused to acknowledge. “Make that two, actually.”

“And I will have a glass of – ”

“He’ll have a Leg Spreader, a bit extra sweet. We’ll leave the rest up to you.” Kagura ignored Hibiki’s sputtered protests (“A _what?”_ ) until he watched Mr. Badguy’s entire frame disappear behind the shelves, presumably to make their drinks.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Kagura turned back to him, grinning. Hibiki was now glaring at him, but Kagura could see that he was still recovering from hearing the drink's name – his stuffy friend’s reaction had been well worth the small risk. (Kagura considered it a small risk in that if he had ordered, say, a Cocksucking Cowboy, he wouldn’t have put it past Hibiki to just get up and leave.)

“What? It’s a good drink. I think it’ll suit your tastes,” he offered. When Hibiki’s expression did not change, he leaned over and whispered, _“It’ll be fine. I’m paying.”_

Then he pulled away and stretched, trying to think of good conversation starters to pass the time. He knew plenty of good ones for girls, of course, but he couldn’t use those on Hibiki – as for small-talk, the younger man had an amazing ability to redirect every conversation back into work. Could he remember anything that Hibiki might have shown interest in before? …Was stationary equipment an acceptable conversation point?

Just when Kagura had decided to tell knock-knock jokes, he felt a tap his shoulder. Hibiki was motioning for him to come closer.

 _“I don’t care if you’re paying. I never ordered anything,”_ whispered Hibiki, before drawing back.

Kagura had no idea how to respond to that.

“You’re really something else,” he said after a long pause, having forgotten his knock-knock joke entirely. Then he snickered. “Ha… if half the girls I’ve been with acted anything like you – ” Kagura stopped, not sure if he wanted to complete that sentence. He wasn’t even sure where he was going with it. Also, there was a small part of him that was actively trying (and failing) to ignore why the hell he was associating Hibiki with girls he’s dated in the first place.

Luckily for him, Hibiki seemed not to notice his sudden inner turmoil; when Kagura looked back at him, he was reading through the menu again with mild disinterest.

“So!” Kagura cleared his throat. “How do you like this place so far? Classier than you expected, huh?”

“Including this questionable menu? I’m afraid we’re not of the same opinion, Lord Kagura.” Hibiki drummed his fingers on the countertop, his eyebrows creasing every so often when he found a particularly questionable item on the menu. He tilted his head toward Kagura. “What I’d really like to know is the occasion, sir. Was there no one else willing to go out drinking with you?”

“Nothing like that,” Kagura replied smoothly. “Why the third degree? Can’t I spend some quality time with my best bro?”

Hibiki rolled his eyes. “I’d wager that you spend more ‘quality time’ around me than with any of those girls you’ve scorned over the past several years. Anyways,” he hummed, “if there were some ulterior motive to this meeting, I’d be happy to hear it now – ”

“Your drinks,” came the gruff voice of the bartender, followed by the clinking sounds of glass meeting table. Kagura made a mental note to tip him extra-well just for that excellent timing.

“Great,” he cheered before the younger man could get another word in. “Hold that thought, Hibiki. Now watch this!”

Kagura grabbed his drinks – two large glasses of beer, each with a shot of sake balanced on two chopsticks on the rim of the glass – and arranged them on his left and right while Hibiki watched with skeptical curiosity. Wiggling his eyebrows, he placed both hands flat on the counter, turned his head back and forth a few times to see if anybody else was watching (they weren’t), and then slammed his forehead on the table. Both shot glasses dropped into the beer spectacularly.

Triumphant, Kagura lifted his head only to the disappointing sight of Hibiki no longer watching him, instead inspecting his own glass with mild suspicion. Even the bartender was looking away and chewing boredly on what looked like a bullet.

Kagura rubbed his forehead, scowling. “Thanks for watching, Hibiki.”

“You don’t need to thank me, sir,” Hibiki replied with a careful sip and a ghost of a smile on lips.

* * *

“He gonna be alright?” asked the bartender for the second time that night, glancing over at Hibiki with a mixture of interest and mild concern.

“He’s fine. He’ll be fine. At least, I think he’ll be fine,” Kagura muttered under his breath. Beside him was Hibiki, – or whatever was left of him after five drinks, not including the one currently in his hand – slumped over on the countertop and murmuring to himself what sounded like tomorrow’s shopping list. Hibiki continued like that for five more minutes until he passed out.

Or rather he _seemed_ to pass out. As soon as Kagura tried to lay a hand on his shoulder, he grabbed his wrist and yanked it backward with the force and precision expected of someone much more sober than Hibiki currently was.

“What do you think you’re doing? – Oh, it’s just Lord Kaaaaagura,” slurred Hibiki. He let go of his hand, sighing.

“Yep, it’s me. Just like the other two times,” Kagura grumbled, massaging his abused wrist. The sound of giggling came from the center table of the lounge; a group of young women were sitting there now, sneaking glances at the two of them every so often. In any other situation, Kagura would be chatting them up – and if he were being honest, it was in fact taking all his self-control not to do just that – but he was too far in the game now, and he was doubly-determined to see his mission through.

“Those girls over there – they’re pretty hot, don’t you think?” asked Kagura. If he couldn’t talk to them, then at least he could use them as subject for conversation; he had an idea of how to leverage the conversation toward where he wanted it to be. “Turn your head, Hibiki. Look over there!”

“I already know where they are… ah.” Hibiki set down his drink and looked at Kagura. “Are you going to go over and disappoint them, sir? Then I’ll go home now, please don’t mind me…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Kagura pushed him back into his seat. “Geez, man, you’re not fit to be going anywhere like that. Stay put for now, alright?”

“…But I don’t want to be here while you – _hic!_ – do things to them, I already hear enough of it…”

“Oi! There’s a time and place for that – but not now! Shh…!” He threw his arm over Hibiki’s shoulder, frantically shushing him. Luckily, the girls didn’t seem to have picked up their most recent exchange. “What I mean is, just look at them. Let me in on the secret, which one’s your type?”

“None,” Hibiki replied. He was trying to grab his drink again and kept missing it.

“None of them? Hm. Then what _is_ your type?”

“I don’t – _hic!_ – have one.”

“C’mon, Hibiki, don’t lie to me. Everyone has a type,” Kagura argued. Hibiki just raised an eyebrow. “The worst that’ll happen is that I’ll throw a few your way, you know. So, what is it? Redheads? Big boobs? ...Small boobs?”

“Those things don’t matter to me,” said Hibiki.

“Magnanimous one, aren’t you,” Kagura said back with a hint of sarcasm. He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, thinking of ways to rephrase that question so that Hibiki might give him a proper response. A thought occurred to him. “Hold on a sec… don’t tell me you already have someone in mind!”

Hibiki didn’t answer immediately. He was staring morosely at the glass in front of him, having given up on trying to grab it. “I can’t tell you that,” he said finally, and with surprising clarity.

“No way, seriously?” His exclamation was loud enough that it had attracted the attention of most of the bar’s patrons, including the young women who started giggling again. Kagura was grinning. “Damn, I want to hear this! Who is it?”

“…I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on man, it’s no big deal! How about you tell me in exchange for all those drinks I just bought you?”

“Nooooooo.”

“Tch. Cagey,” he accused. Kagura dropped the topic and picked up his own shot glass, downing it in one gulp. He’d keep this line of discussion in the back of his mind and bring it up later – pursuing things aggressively when Hibiki was guarded would only make it worse. “Ooh, that was good. Hey! Can we get another one of this? Another Kamikaze – no, wait, make that two.”

The barkeeper grunted, spat out his bullet ( _Was it really a bullet?_ he wondered), and stomped off. Kagura turned toward Hibiki, who had his head propped up on one hand and watching his untouched glass. He had a small frown and appeared deep in thought.

“So,” Kagura interjected, “tell me. What are your hobbies? You like sports? Fishing?” _Best to start small._

“I like working,” said Hibiki.

“No, you don’t,” said Kagura, flatly.

Hibiki laughed. “No, I don’t,” he agreed, then he hiccupped. There was a pause. “…I like pottery, ceramics… I think. But it’s not like I have much time for that. Or space.”

“Oh, yeah, I sorta remember you doing that kind of stuff before,” said Kagura. He’d have to remember that for Hibiki’s next birthday; his secretary wasn’t very impressed with the tequila he got him last time, no matter how expensive it was. “Anything else?”

Hibiki tapped his chin. “…Organizing your paperwork?”

“That’s not a hobby, Hibiki,” said Kagura.

“Theeeen…. cooking your meals?”

Kagura shook his head. “That’s still not a hobby. You’re getting a bit – ”

“Doing – _hic!_ – your laundry?” Hibiki cut in. OK, he was definitely teasing him.

“Still not a hobby. And do you seriously like doing that stuff?” Kagura pointed out with a glare.

“Not really,” Hibiki sighed. He cocked his head to the side, looking at Kagura. “Maybe it would be more tolerable if you showed any appreciation, sir, but I guess that’s too much to ask…”

Kagura blinked a few times. He smiled brightly. “Aw, Hibiki, you know I always appreciate you!” To make his point, he tried to reach over and pat Hibiki on the head; the younger man simply swatted his hand away.

“There’s no need for that, Lord Kaguraaaa. Besides, I already found my peace,” said Hibiki. He leaned forward, eyes gleaming; then came a strange question: “Are you not wearing underwear again, sir?”

“Am I… not wearing underwear?” Kagura repeated, confused, and Hibiki nodded. He was, in fact, going commando, but that had nothing to do with what they were talking about – right? Kagura gave him a questioning grin. “I don’t know how you figured out, but… no. Wait – I get it now, of course you’d notice. They’ve been going missing from the laundry, right? I might’ve misplaced them… or maybe my girls have been taking them. Hey, I like the sound of that!” Kagura smirked, nudging Hibiki’s side. “What do you think? Is it because girls just can’t get their hands off my knickers?”

 _“Here.”_ The bartender cut his thoughts short by slamming two shots on the table, startling Kagura enough to make him flinch. He looked up at the man, incredulous, but Mr. Badguy had already stalked off to clean another table.

“Weird bartender today, huh?” Kagura commented. He quickly downed one shot, and when Hibiki refused the second, he took the other one as well, savoring the sour notes as it passed down his throat. “Aah! At least he can mix drinks. Are you ever going to finish that, by the way?”

“Is that really the scenario you came up with?” interjected Hibiki. “How disappointing… you really are single-minded in the end…”

“Huh? What now?”

“It was me,” said Hibiki, his expression oddly blank. “I was the one who took your underwear for the past month. I threw them all away.”

It took Kagura several seconds to process what he was saying.

“You _what?”_ Kagura exclaimed. Hibiki solemnly nodded, but the corner of his mouth kept twitching upward. _“You?_ You’re the reason why all my boxers…?”

“And your briefs, don’t forget,” said Hibiki. “Yes, I threw them in the garbage. Hm…”

_“Why?”_

“You kept walking all over the house with just those on, sir, it was getting… obscene?” Hibiki explained with an air of innocence – or as close as he could get to that, considering the situation. “And I was always finding them in strange places… disgusting… no matter how many times I told you to put them in the hamper. But – _hic!_ – excuse me – but it was that time you decided to wear just your boxers to work that I decided to get rid of them. At least you would have to wear trousers from now on…”

“So you threw out all my underwear?” said Kagura in disbelief.

“Yes.” Hibiki shrugged.

Kagura was suddenly finding it very difficult to connect this incredibly insubordinate underwear-trasher to the reliable and sensible secretary whom he once knew. He also couldn’t help suspecting that there was something downright perverse about the whole situation which he couldn’t put his finger on; quite frankly, he did not want to dwell on it. The girls at the other table had started whispering again.

“I didn’t expect you to be so distressed, siiiiire. I mean, sir,” said Hibiki, breaking the silence. He peered down at Kagura’s pants. “Even so, you adapted rather well… since the beginning, you never complain to me, not even once…”

“God damnit Hibiki,” Kagura groaned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, probably,” Hibiki replied, this time with complete seriousness. The mischievous glimmer left his eyes almost immediately, and he fell silent.

Kagura couldn't say he liked this change in demeanor. He peered down at Hibiki, frowning a little. “That was a rhetorical question. You know I don’t actually think that, right? Even though you threw out all my… well, never mind. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Hibiki remained impassive. “This isn’t self-pity, just statement of fact. By normal standards, someone who was raised the way I was… who considers himself an empty person… would be seen as having many problems, wouldn’t he?” Kagura noticed that he sounded surprisingly sober while saying all this – not as sober as if the past hour had never happened, but still considerably lucid compared to the Hibiki who had cheerfully admitted to throwing out Kagura’s unmentionables moments ago. His gaze flickered up and locked onto Kagura’s. “Those standards do not apply to me when I am but a tool, Lord Kagura.”

“Hey,” Kagura said firmly. He refused to break his gaze and stared back, hard. “I don’t think that way about you, and you shouldn’t either. You’re more than just a tool to me.”

There was a tense pause as they stared at one other, neither willing to back down or say anything.

“I hate it when you say things like that, sir,” Hibiki finally muttered under his breath.

“Well, I’m not going to stop. Guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“...You always make things difficult for me.” Hibiki looked away and stared down at his knees. A pause, and then he continued: “It would be better if you just accepted it.” Another pause. “...There’s a part of me that’s human. A part that is _still_ human despite everything, that I can’t make inhuman – and it makes things much harder, because the other part is… not.”

There was another stretch of silence, punctuated only by the clinking of glass and the smooth bass line coming from the stereo. Kagura was trying to wrap his head around what Hibiki said; it was too vague for Kagura’s liking, but also he felt like if he asked the wrong thing, Hibiki would get annoyed and drop the conversation altogether.

“Is there something that’s been bothering you?” asked Kagura, eyebrows furrowed. He decided this was the best way to go – whatever Hibiki was trying telling him, it sounded like he needed help. “Something that makes you feel less than human?”

A sigh. “You don’t get it at all, sir.”

“Huh?”

“Ever since I met you…” Hibiki trailed off and averted his eyes. He looked strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden; his face had taken on a rosy hue. “Since then, it hasn’t been easy. Somehow you’ve defied my every expectation of you as a leader and a person. You are irresponsible to a fault, but somehow you still find yourself in positions of incredible power and end up beloved for it. You are terrible at reading people, yet your blind, optimistic expectations make people want to live up to them. You don’t know your limits in drinking, flirting, or ambitions – and no matter how many times you fall or how many setbacks you encounter, you never learn.”

“Thanks,” said Kagura sarcastically. _Of course he’s insulting me, isn’t he?_ But when Hibiki continued talking, he realized that he wasn’t.

“I don’t understand you, not at all,” Hibiki said quietly. “With your position and power, you could have treated me however you wanted – you could have treated _any_ of your subordinates however you wanted, and yet you’ve been nothing but… lenient and generous. Too generous. I haven’t missed those times you’ve taken serious falls for the mistakes of your men and given them but a slap on the wrist in turn. No matter how much I insult you, you always brush it off and thank me for everything I’ve done. Regardless of how much you seem to trust me, you never take insubordination seriously. I can’t understand it.”

Kagura listened to him with increasing exasperation. “You can’t be this torn up just because I’m a decent boss,” he said, incredulous. “I’m flattered that you appreciate me and all, but geez – did you expect me to be some kind of incompetent, power-lording psycho?”

“No,” Hibiki replied darkly, “I’m not ashamed of my gratitude. In fact, I was surprised at how little I resented you for acting like you do, after the kind of history I’ve been through. Normally that sort of behavior would be seen as weakness. I feared that if you were anyone but yourself, you would be dead – if not by enemy hands, then… well.” His eyes flickered down at his own hands for a split-second, and Kagura noticed the pained expression.

“Hibiki…” he started, but Hibiki interrupted him.

“But that didn’t happen.” Hibiki was looking straight at him now, amber eyes burning into amethyst. There was an intensity in his countenance that Kagura was not sure he could even attribute to alcohol – it conveyed the sense that he was hearing something very important, perhaps the most important thing Hibiki would ever tell him in his entire life. “I never reached you. Instead, you reached me. No matter how reckless, ridiculous, or naive your plans are, I find myself believing in you. No matter how dangerous the repercussions are, I want to hear what you have to say. It happened at all once and before I knew it, I genuinely wanted to see you succeed. Your dreams became my dreams. Your desires became my desires. You became my… everything.”

“Hibiki...”

“I didn’t understand it at first, I thought I was going crazy. I even checked myself into a clinic, I thought maybe I had a case of seither poisoning – because my heart was beating too fast when it shouldn’t have, whenever you touched me, whenever you looked my way, eventually even just the thought of you… I must be going crazy, right?” Hibiki laughed softly, mirthlessly. “Except the doctor said there was nothing wrong with me… funny, isn’t it, thinking there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Hibiki – ”

He looked away, appearing both wistful and disgusted. His next words were said with bitterness. “So then why am I so bothered by you? Why must it _always_ be you? I don’t understand it. One moment you’re slacking off and making a fool of yourself, and the next you’ve gone off into something so dangerous that I could die worrying for you, and _then_ you have to come back with that ridiculous smile on your face, saying everything is alright and I can’t even be angry with you when I’m just so relieved that you’re here and you’re still alive – ”

“Hibiki – ”

“Why do I feel so empty when you’re not around?” Hibiki asked, almost desperate. His voice had dropped in volume and increased in speed; it was a miracle that he wasn’t stumbling over his words, given how flustered he appeared. “Why do I hate it when you put too much trust into other people? Why can I not just be the proper tool that I was meant to be? Why do I like you so much? Why do I hate you so much? Why are you the one causing me all this confusion?”

 _“Hibiki!”_ Kagura shouted this time and grabbed the boy by the shoulders; the force caused him to topple forward against the larger man's chest. Kagura was slowly processing everything that had been said and it was getting too far, _way_ too far for his comfort – everything above his collar was heating up to dangerous levels, from what he imagined was secondhand embarassment. Kagura forced himself to level his gaze directly at Hibiki, who appeared startled. “Get – get a hold of yourself! Do you even know what you’re saying?” he pleaded.

“…I don’t know,” said Hibiki. He looked down at his shoulders, where Kagura was still holding him, and he slowly pushed himself upright. He bit his lower lip. “I really don’t know. So… why?”

Hibiki lifted his chin to meet his gaze. That was when Kagura realized how close they were, their faces mere inches apart from one another. He could see even the most minute details and shifts of expression on the younger man’s face – the subtle marks of anxiety on his visage, the smooth contour of his neckline, the fluttering of long and dark eyelashes. He also noticed how much redder Hibiki’s face had become; the blush spanned from ends his cheeks to the tip of his delicate nose – which, Kagura saw, was actually adorned with a smattering of freckles, so faint that they were nearly undetectable. His hair had transformed from a dark geometric-looking object into layers and layers of neat sable locks, thick and feather-like; his eyes, reflecting the warm lights of the bar and having lost their usual harsh quality, appeared gold and dewlike. His lips appeared almost temptingly soft, and his mouth was trembling. Hibiki looked tired. He also looked strangely small, and fragile, and endearing, and gorgeous.

_Wait… gorgeous?_

Kagura’s breath hitched, and he forgot what he had meant to do. Unspeakable thoughts surfaced from his consciousness. His fingers felt warm; Hibiki had placed a hand on top one of Kagura’s, lacing his fingers in his. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to a whisper: _“Why do you make me feel so happy?”_

His mind went blank.

Kagura could not recall in full detail what happened next.

Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was because the moment seemed to beg for it, or maybe he was just very, very confused – but it was Kagura who had closed the small distance between them. He kissed Hibiki. Kagura recalled a muffled note of surprise, the sounds of girls squealing in the distance, shot glasses being knocked askew, soft lips molded against his own, silken hair threaded between his fingers, the taste of fruity lime zest, and the steady, swinging rhythm of jazz music.

The next thing he noticed, when he pulled away, was that Hibiki had finally passed out for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All drink names mentioned are real names for drinks. Yes, even the Cocksucking Cowboy.


	2. Aftermath

Kagura was thinking.

It was 11:00PM, and most of the patrons were already gone – the only people still at the bar were Kagura, Hibiki, and the bartender himself. The resulting ambience was unusually silent: no chatter, no sounds of glass clinking, and no music, because the stereo system had been turned off at Kagura’s request. Mr. Badguy finished cleaning the countertop and, as he had informed Kagura, was prepared to leave as soon as his shift was over – that was to say, in exactly ten minutes. Hibiki was still fast asleep, leaning against Kagura. Since there was nobody around to judge them, he let it slide.

Kagura was thinking. At least, that was what he was trying to do. His brain seemed to be screaming at him _What? What? What?_ on repeat, which made it rather difficult to concentrate on anything else. He tried pinching himself on the arm; it didn’t help very much.

Kagura took a deep breath and, this time, forced himself to think about something – _anything_ – besides what had just happened here. Wasn’t he forgetting something? He felt like he was forgetting something mildly important, something he should be remembering right about now, something he had wanted to ask someone else – someone like Hibiki. Then it clicked, and Kagura realized that had forgotten to ask Hibiki who he liked back then.

Well, it’s not like he didn’t know the answer now.

...This wasn’t working.

Kagura gave up and dropped his head into his hands. _You kissed him, you moron,_ he mentally berated himself. _He was drunk off his ass, and you kissed him._ _That’s pretty gay, dude. You can’t even say you did it because you were drunk, because you_ know _you haven’t had nearly enough drinks for that. You’ve gone to meetings more inebriated than this. Even though Hibiki kept on talking and talking, and you couldn’t stop him from pouring out all of his feelings even when you tried – you still didn’t have to kiss him. And hell, wasn’t that all part of The Plan in the first place?_

Right... The Plan.

Kagura had already decided to completely and utterly screw The Plan. He admitted to himself now that it was a stupid idea. In hindsight, the problem had been right there in the blueprint, all the way from steps 1 to 4: Bar. Drinks. _Alcohol_. Kagura knew better than anyone how it messed with your head and made people say and do things they didn't mean, which was clearly what happened with Hibiki (although it didn’t exactly help his own case, as his thoughts had pointed out) – and since that was what happened, everything that had occurred tonight was rendered meaningless. _Damn you, alcohol!_ He could really use some right now.

Kagura lifted his head and checked the clock: there was still ten minutes before the night shift. In the end, he hadn’t made as much use of the open bar as he originally planned, but he also didn’t want to bother the bartender with making another drink this late into his shift. His eyes fell upon the last drink he had ordered for Hibiki: a tall glass of ombre liquid, bright orange at the base and crimson at the top, and left almost untouched. It was a bit girly for his tastes, but...

He picked up the glass, hesitating.

 _You already kissed him, dumbass,_ he reminded himself. _Is stealing a drink that he_ might _have already put his mouth on really any worse?_

Kagura closed his eyes and chugged.

The drink went down easily. It went down _really_ easily. Kagura lowered the now half-empty glass and swirled the contents; he took another sip, and it tasted just the same.

“Is this the Sex on the Beach?” Kagura asked the bartender, who was poking his head out the side-door exit for a smoke.

“Yes,” he grunted.

“And is your Sex on the Beach alcoholic?”

“Yes.” Mr. Badguy took a long drag.

“Huh.” Kagura sniffed the liquid, shrugged, and drained the rest. “You guys sure do a good job of hiding it.”

The bartender exhaled slowly, smoke trailing into the night air. “…’Cept that one isn’t.”

“What?”

“I’m saying the one in your hand is nonalcoholic, kid.” He pointed at the glass that Kagura had just finished drinking.

Kagura slowly put down the empty drinking vessel, now feeling annoyed. “OK, why?”

“Bar policy. After a certain incident happened, we can’t serve your guests any alcohol unless they show ID, no matter what uniform they’re wearing.” Mr. Badguy snorted as he said this. “That’s what they told me, anyway. I hope you know what happened, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“...Oh.”

That explanation made sense, but something felt off. Kagura couldn't shake the feeling that something about that answer was inconsistent with what had happened tonight. His gaze traveled from the bottles on the wall to Mr. Badguy, then from Mr. Badguy to the empty glass, then from the empty glass to Hibiki, and finally from Hibiki to the bottles on the wall. Then realization hit him.

“Hold on. Are you telling me that _none_ of the drinks you gave Hibiki was alcohol?”

“That's what I'm saying. Your little boyfriend there is as sober as I am.” The bartender crushed the last of his cigarette on the ground with his shoe, checked his watch, and walked back inside with a sigh. “Five minutes, kid. Are you leaving or what?”

“But, but,” Kagura sputtered, gesturing at Hibiki, “but – how? He still got drunk! …And did you just call Hibiki my little boyfriend?”

“It happens sometimes. Give someone what they think might be alcohol, and they act accordingly,” explained Mr. Badguy, who seemed either ignorant or completely indifferent to the glares that Kagura was shooting at him. “Doesn’t happen to everyone, but I’m guessing your friend doesn’t drink much. It usually doesn’t work if you know what being drunk actually feels like.”

“That sounds about right,” said Kagura, calming down a little. _So he was still drunk, in a way?_ Another thought occurred to him, but he didn’t dare ask it aloud.

“Placebo won’t cause people to do or say things they would never think of doing sober, though,” Mr. Badguy added, which answered the question that Kagura was thinking anyway.

_Damn it!_

The bar was silent as Kagura contemplated how he would proceed from here. A part of him was seriously considering staying for the night shift and drinking until he forgot everything that happened tonight, because he was out of options and he did not want to deal with the aftermath. There was no denying it: his secretary’s feelings were decidedly un-platonic and not formed under the influence, and Kagura had crossed the final boundary of platonic bro-ship on his own free will. If Hibiki remembered any of this in the morning, he was screwed. Hell – if _he_ remembered any of this in the morning himself, he was still screwed. Was it too late to start writing an epitaph? He could envision something like, 'Kagura Mutsuki: Fearless Leader of the Duodecim and Supreme Lover of (mostly) Women / He spoke fair, thought what he liked, and regretted everything.' Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.

...

Kagura really needed to be drunk.

The open bar was still open for five more minutes. At this point, he was willing to tip Mr. Badguy any amount if he could pour an extra-large whiskey before the end of the night. He reached for his wallet. The movement caused an unexpected shift in pressure on his side, and the weight against his shoulder suddenly slipped; Kagura turned around and, snapping back to the present situation with an acute sense of panic, remembered that Hibiki was still sleeping there and _now he was falling –_

Kagura reacted instinctively; he lurched forward out of his seat and caught the falling boy before either of them hit the floor, sending both chairs clattering on the floor. Hibiki’s eyes flickered open, wide and confused.

"Hibiki! You alright?" he demanded.

Hibiki did not reply, merely staring at Kagura. After a few seconds, he nodded and slowly closed his eyes again.

A small wave of relief washed over Kagura – along with a dull stinging in his arm, for some reason. He looked down and realized that it hadn’t just been his own lightning-fast instincts that had saved the younger man from crashing to the floor; Hibiki’s arms were wrapped around his, clinging onto him tightly. Even as he nestled his head comfortably into Kagura’s shoulder, his grip did not let up, as if he were afraid that Kagura would drop him again. The sight was oddly endearing, and also a bit sad.

 _Well, you_ are _dropping him a metaphorical sense, aren’t you?_ snarked a small voice in the back of his mind. _Everything he said today was real. Are you just going to pretend you never heard any of it?_

A guilty churning sensation started in the pit of his stomach, but Kagura was soon distracted by the feeling of soft hair tickling the side of his neck. Hibiki was asleep again and sinking his full weight against Kagura – which, all things considered, wasn’t very much at all. His breathing was deep and even. Curious, Kagura slowly waved his free hand back and forth over his face. No reaction. He placed his hand on Hibiki’s cheek and, on an impulse, began tracing his thumb over his half-parted lips. This produced a fleeting expression of irritation, and Hibiki buried his face deeper into the crook of Kagura’s neck.

The bartender peered over the counter with a grimace. “Look, I gotta go. The open bar is closed. If you want to hang around for the night team, go ahead, but I need to bounce.” If he had a comment about why they were now both on the floor all of a sudden, he didn't say it.

“Ah. Right.”

Shit, Kagura had momentarily forgotten where they were and what he was doing. The guilt he had been feeling was mostly gone now and was replaced by a rush of something unfamiliar – something that felt like affection and excitement and protectiveness, perhaps a mix of all three. The unexpected compulsions and and unfamiliar sensations that had taken over him now felt peaceful. Either way, Kagura didn’t feel like drinking much anymore.

 _Hey,_ someone _has to get the both of us home. Might as well be the responsible one for once,_ chimed a small voice of reason in his head that he didn’t even know existed, and it somehow reminded him of Hibiki. Kagura slapped Mr. Badguy’s tip on the counter and gently hoisted the boy into his arms.

Maybe he would take Hibiki out drinking for real someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drink names are still actual names for actual drinks. Aside from that, this concludes my contribution to the OTP. Thank you for reading!


End file.
